


The Granger’s House

by IckleRonnikens



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:40:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27638347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IckleRonnikens/pseuds/IckleRonnikens
Summary: Harry Potter spends the last month of his summer holidays before school with Hermione Granger and her parents, instead of going to the Burrow. Harmony fluff.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 39
Kudos: 259





	1. The Change of Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Please Note: This is meant to be a wholesome, feel-good, fluffy Harmony story, without too much plot, without explicit content and without excessive amounts of kissing, which I’m terrible at writing. So, if that doesn’t sound like your sort of thing, I’d advise you back out and refrain from making comments about the lack of such content. Otherwise, please enjoy.
> 
> This story is an extension of the following Harmony drabble: [#18 - The Granger House](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24414160/chapters/63500566)
> 
> Additional notes: Thanks for reading, but, going forward, please expect small word counts, inconsistencies, and infrequent updates... :3

#  Chapter One

* * *

The Change of Plans

* * *

Harry Potter was pacing the length of the narrow hallway of number four Privet Drive nervously, his large trunk had been completely packed of his things and it was sitting by the door with his owl Hedwig, who was watching him patiently as he marched back and forth, perched in her cage on top of it all. As was the tradition of his summer holidays spent at the Dursley’s, the time had come for him to be collected and taken away, far away, to spend the remainder of the break at a friend’s house, and a place far-friendlier than here.

There was a little bit of a change in the plan this year. After much correspondence between his two best friends from Hogwarts, Harry would not be taking the usual trip to the Burrow, where the Weasley’s lived. For the first time in his life, he would be staying with Hermione Granger and her parents at their house, and it was fair to say that he was a little bit nervous. He did not know them as well as Mr and Mrs Weasley, although he hoped, if all went well, that might change in the weeks to come.

They did sound like lovely people. They had been perfectly happy for him to come and stay with them, once Harry had agreed to Hermione’s persistent letters, which kept pointing out that he always went to stay with Ron, and never her. His Uncle Vernon on the other hand, who was currently sitting in the living room pretending to read the newspaper while Harry paced, had been a little less convinced about the Granger’s.

“Dentists?” Uncle Vernon had said when Harry had attempted to explain the situation to him. “As in, real dentists, from the real world? Not some strange version of your lot?”

“Yes, real dentists. They’re muggles,” Harry said, and when he saw the look of confusion on Uncle Vernon’s face he added, “they aren’t magical at all. Only their daughter, my friend, is—”

“Excellent,” Uncle Vernon said firmly, shifting back comfortably in his chair, “so we won’t be having any of that nonsense from a few years back? When my fireplace blew up?”

Uncle Vernon twitched at the thought, but Harry shook his head. His Aunt Petunia, however, made a noise with her tongue in rather a disapproving manner, much like she did when a plotline didn’t go the way she wanted whilst watching one of her soap operas on the television.

“That means nothing,” she said fiercely, her eyes narrowing, “my sister was the only one in my family like your lot, and it turned my parents into the most insufferable people—"

“Aha!” Uncle Vernon said, pointing a chubby finger at Harry. “You see? Don’t try and lie to us, boy. Dentists indeed! What a crackpot of a profession, anyway. Don’t trust them to be able to drive the right way up the street… speaking of which—”

“Yes, they will be driving a normal car, don’t worry,” Harry said rolling his eyes, “and I’m sure it’ll be more expensive than yours and driven properly and on the right side of the street and everything—”

“You dare—?”

“I’m going to go pack now,” Harry said lazily, ignoring his Uncle, who had risen angrily from his chair.

By the time the doorbell rang, Uncle Vernon was still fuming, and Harry was just about ready to be out of there. He had been at the other end of the hallway when he heard the buzzer, and raced to wrench open the door, and on the other side of it he found his best friend Hermione standing on the doormat. At the sight of him she beamed, and when he looked up, he recognised the faces of Mr and Mrs Granger, who he had only met once or twice briefly, smiling back down at him.

“Hello Harry,” Hermione said brightly, usually she would have flung her arms around him by now, but maybe because her parents were there, or maybe she was showing proper etiquette for his muggle relatives who she knew could be rather delicate and so she held back and kept her arms behind her.

“Hi Hermione,” he said happily, he couldn’t get the grin off his face as he looked up, “hello Mr and Mrs Granger—”

“Good afternoon, Harry,” Mr Granger inclined his head with a smile, “I apologise for our tardiness, the motorway was quite insufferable— oh, hello,” he looked up with another smile over Harry’s shoulder.

Harry suddenly noticed a large shadow had been cast over him, and it was being made by Uncle Vernon, who had very obviously come to investigate and judge these _dentists_ and their fancy high-end priced car, sitting in the driveway next to his reasonable priced one. Harry stepped aside as he gave Hermione and her parents a look of apology for what was undoubtedly about to come out of the beefy man’s mouth.

“Mph,” Uncle Vernon said, clearly he could say nothing bad about the people in front of him, or the car in the driveway, as his eyes flashed towards it over Mr Granger’s shoulder, who misunderstood the situation, and put out his hand for Harry’s Uncle to shake.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr Dursley,” he said politely, Harry was sure there was a glint in his eye as Mr Granger glanced in his direction, “and you must be Mrs Dursley?”

Aunt Petunia had appeared in the hallway, barely visible behind Uncle Vernon, she did nothing but give the smallest inclination of her head, which suggested she acknowledge their presence and nothing else.

“Pleasure to meet you both. My name is Christopher Granger, though please, I’d prefer if you called me Chris,” Mr Granger said, before indicating the slim woman beside him, who Harry would have been able to recognise as the mother of Hermione out of a crowd without any problem, “this is my wife, Dianne—”

“Hello,” Mrs Granger said nervously, giving a little wave. “You have a very lovely home.”

“Mph,” Uncle Vernon said, repeating himself, apparently, he was unable to find a criticism.

“Yes, indeed,” Mr Granger said, agreeing with the sentiments of his wife, “my daughter did tell me that you do very important work that involves drills?”

Uncle Vernon’s moustache twitched, and his eyebrows rose slightly. He looked impressed.

“That’s right,” Uncle Vernon said proudly, yet steadily, as he found his voice. “I’m the director at Grunning’s Drills. I’m sure you’ve heard of us?”

“Certainly,” Mr Granger said, though Harry was willing to bet he’d never heard of such a company, “I’m not sure how much young Harry here has told you, but we’re actually dentists—”

“He might have mentioned it,” Uncle Vernon said, his eyes flashing towards the boy.

“We work with drills too,” Mr Granger said happily, reaching into the front pocket of his suit, making Uncle Vernon flinch slightly, “perhaps we could get together some time and talk?”

Mr Granger held out his business card for Uncle Vernon to take, who looked at it wearingly, and thinking of his fireplace, wondered if it might explode in his face.

“Err… I…” Uncle Vernon took the card and stared down at it unblinkingly, as Mr Granger turned to Harry.

“Are you ready to go, Harry?” he asked nicely, there was a small twitch on the side of his mouth, secretly acknowledging that he’d managed to impress the unimpressionable. “Got your trunk?”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry said, he had almost forgotten he was leaving with them, he had been so invested in the way Mr Granger was handling himself.

“Very well,” Mr Granger said, looking back around at Uncle Vernon and spotting Dudley peering at them around the corner, “perhaps your strong looking cousin could help you load it into our car?”

The ground beneath their feet shook as Dudley whimpered and raced up the flight of stairs in fear, one hand was clutched over his mouth and the other was attempting to shield his wide bottom. He, for one, had never forgotten about the things that had happened to him by the hands of Harry’s visiting friends.

“It’s okay,” Hermione said suddenly, when Uncle Vernon began to turn a slight shade of red, “I’ll help Harry, dad.”

“Thank you, Hermione,” Mr Granger looked carefully back at Uncle Vernon, “it worked out, then. Didn’t meant for it to sound like I was ordering your son around, Mr Dursley—”

“Mph,” Uncle Vernon said again with a slight twitch, Harry could tell his Uncle’s temper was rising slightly as he and Hermione shifted past him with Harry’s trunk.

“We won’t take up anymore of your time Mr Dursley, Mrs Durlsey,” Mr Granger said, inclining his head at Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, who was standing in the shadows behind her husband. “Please, feel free to call about your drills. I’d love to hear about everything. Well, goodbye.”

He saluted and turned his back on Uncle Vernon, who stood like a white statue in the doorway, watching Mr and Mrs Granger return to the expensive car, where Harry and Hermione were hauling the heavy trunk into the boot. After a moment, the front door to number four Privet Drive slammed shut, and the four people in the driveway turned to one another and grinned.

“How did we do, Harry?” Mr Granger asked hopefully in a low voice, a small smile on his face.

“Brilliantly,” Harry said with a laugh, he couldn’t stop picturing the look of shock on his Uncle’s face, “he wasn’t expecting that, not in a million years, not from someone who has a daughter associated with the Wizarding World.”

“We figured as much,” Mr Granger said, that glint was still in his eye.

“Hermione has told us a lot about them,” Mrs Granger said, looking wearily back towards the house, “and the horrible way they treat you. We just wanted to get our impressions right, in case they decided they weren’t going to let you come and stay with us.”

“It was Hermione’s idea,” Mr Granger said proudly, beaming at his daughter, who smiled weakly.

“Well, it was perfect,” Harry said with a nod, as Hermione grinned, “as usual.”

“Let’s get going, shall we?” he asked them, Hermione nodded at her father and when her parents turned to get into the car, she finally flung her arms around Harry.

“It’s good to see you, Harry,” she whispered, as her hair tickled his nose.

“It’s good to see you too, Hermione,” he said, hugging her back.

It had only been a matter of weeks, but he had missed her hugs dreadfully and he had missed the flowery scent of her bushy brown hair. He had spent so many days lying amongst the flourishing agapanthus, in an attempt to replicate the soothing presence of his best friend, but all it did was remind him painfully where he still was.

Eventually they pulled apart, she gave him a short smile and then they climbed into the back of the car just as Mr Granger started the engine. Harry could see Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia peering out through the curtains of the living room, he didn’t know if they had seen him hug his friend, but couldn’t care less what they thought, as the car took off up Privet Drive along the correct side of the street, and with Harry in tow, the Granger’s made the several hour drive back to their home.


	2. The House of Dreams

#  Chapter Two

* * *

The House of Dreams

* * *

The location of the Granger’s House was not where Harry had expected it to be at all. They had driven west for several hours, they passed through a bunch of different towns he’d never heard of before until they reached the sea and pulled into the driveway of large summer house. It sat on a long stretching, isolated beach, that was rather like a cove, and was so picture-perfect, that Harry wondered if this was really where Hermione lived, or just a beach house they stayed at during the holidays.

It was the perfect time of day when they arrived too. The sun was only just setting beyond the horizon, it was a very low tide, and there was a refreshing coolness in the air. Harry shivered slightly when he stepped out of the car, the slight breeze that came from the sea caught him by surprise and he would have killed for another warm hug from Hermione. He settled, instead, with a warm smile she gave him, when he asked about the elephant in the room.

“You live here?” he asked in disbelief, casting a glance at the two-story house, the surrounding sand dunes, the long stretch of beach and crystal smooth water.

“Yes,” she said with a laugh, as they popped open the boot and retrieved his trunk.

“It’s not a holiday house or anything?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“We have no need for a holiday house, as you can clearly see,” Mr Granger said proudly after he and his wife had climbed out of the car, “I’m guessing by your reaction that you approve of our home?”

Harry realised his mouth had been hanging open and he snapped it shut. “It’s so nice.”

“Wait until you see what mum and dad did to help turn my room into an actual library,” Hermione said casually, as she closed the boot of the car, “then you’ll be convinced—”

“I’ll be sleeping in a library?” Harry asked in amusement.

Mr Granger cleared his throat. “Actually, Harry,” he said rather firmly, “you’ll be staying in one of our guest bedrooms. You understand, of course, given you relationship with our daughter, my wife and I think it wiser you sleep in separate bedrooms.”

Harry felt his face growing hot. “Relationship?” he asked, sounding confused.

“Dad, please,” Hermione said desperately, turning a shade of scarlet herself, “I told you before, Harry’s my _best_ friend, not my boyfriend—”

“Nevertheless,” Mr Granger said, though it sounded like he didn’t believe her, “he can stay in the guest bedroom we’ve made up for him. He has his own space then.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume where I would be sleeping,” Harry said formally, he was trying to downplay the look of embarrassment Hermione was giving him. “A room to myself sounds very generous, Mr and Mrs Granger, thank you.”

“You are so polite,” Mrs Granger said sweetly, beaming, “but please, you’re living with us now, it’s Dianne and Chris, okay?”

“Oh,” Harry blinked, he wasn’t quite sure what to say, “okay.”

“Good,” Mr Granger said, he sounded reassured, “okay Harry, let’s make you at home, shall we?”

Harry nodded and as Mr and Mrs Granger walked on ahead, Hermione helped him pick up his trunk and hung back, deciding to follow at a distance.

“Sorry about that,” Hermione said apologetically, both of their faces were slightly red, “ever since they saw me kiss you at the end of fourth year, my parents have been under the impression that we’re more than friends. And despite my best attempts at telling them otherwise, that’s what they think. I don’t know what else to say—”

“It’s okay,” Harry said, he was quickly beginning to see the humorous side of it, “I don’t know why I assumed I would be sleeping in your bedroom. That would be an invasion of your privacy and that would be awkward, right?”

“Um, yeah, right,” Hermione said in agreement carefully. “I’m just happy you’re here Harry, and away from your horrible relatives.”

Harry nodded and put a smile on his face as they followed her parents towards the house.

They walked up a small ramp and in the front door of the house. Immediately on his left there was a wall with pictures of the Granger’s. He spotted several of Hermione at a much younger age, one as a toddler crawling around, another of her at age five or six with one of her front teeth missing. There were some snapshots of her on holidays, skiing in France, and at other landmarks in Europe.

There were a lot of young pictures of her playing at the beach, which he assumed, were taken out the front of the house they were now in. The collection was so wholesome to him, that it took him a minute to look around, and notice the rest of the house. His mouth dropped open again. He had thought it was vast from the outside, but now that he was inside, his mind was rather blown at the space the Granger’s had in their home.

To the right was a large kitchen. It had quite a homely feel to it with the wooden cupboards all around the room, and there was a large slab of wood across the middle like an island table. All the appliances were sleek white and expensive looking, the fridge was tall and had an ice and water dispenser, there was a dishwasher under the sink with no shortage of buttons, a microwave that looked like it was from the future and an oversized oven that just looked like two side-by-side.

The place was cleaned and decorated so well that Harry was sure even his Aunt Petunia would have approved of this kitchen. There were more momentous of Hermione’s childhood on the fridge, including, Harry noticed, all of her Hogwarts letters, which he remembered her saying that her parents had always been proud of her for.

“This is my kitchen,” Mrs Granger said proudly, a small smile on her face at Harry’s reaction, “if you ever want something to eat or something to drink, don’t hesitate to help yourself, all right? Hermione can show you where everything is later.”

“However, you won’t find any sweets,” Mr Granger said pointedly, “because—”

“You’re both dentists,” Hermione said rolling her eyes, “yes, he knows.”

They showed him a little alcove to the right of the kitchen, which turned out to be the laundry, and contained a washing machine, a dryer, a large washbasin and a drying cupboard.

Adjacent to the kitchen was a vast living area that was made up of three sections. The first, to the right, was a living room with a great big marble fireplace set into the wall, a television set in the corner, and several leather couches spaced out, pointing towards the large glass windows. They looked out onto a little veranda outside, and then beyond that, the beach and indeed the sea. The view was utterly breathtaking, and quite honestly, something that Harry hadn’t expected.

The sun had disappeared from view now, but Harry could tell, watching a sunset from that room would be an experience.

To the left of the marble fireplace was a door that apparently led into Mr and Mrs Granger’s personal office. He wasn’t taken in to look, but the door was slightly ajar, so he could only slightly see what was inside of it. They didn’t tell him as much, but he figured, it was probably a room he was expected not to go into without permission, so he swiftly forgot about it and the tour moved on.

The third room, to the left of the living room, was what could properly be described as a dining room. There was a long table at the far side, with an accompanying bar in the corner with large mirrors, and then to the left of that was a doorway that led to the bedrooms, and then to the left of that still, was a wooden spiral staircase that led upstairs. He wasn’t shown up the stairs, but he also wasn’t told that it was off-limits, basically it was described to him as another living area with a bathroom and access to the roof.

They then took him through the door to the bedrooms, into a long stretching hallway, and immediately to the right was Mr and Mrs Granger’s bedroom with an attached bathroom. Then, about halfway down the hallway to the left was Hermione’s bedroom, which he glanced into briefly, and just saw a glimpse of shelves and shelves of books. And then at the end of the hallway there was a three-way split of two guest bedrooms, one of which was his, and a rather spacious bathroom complete with a shower and bath combination and—

“Wait,” Harry said after peering into the said bathroom, “you have a spa?”

“It’s nothing special,” Hermione said, she looked slightly disappointed as Harry gawped at her, “we haven’t used it in years—”

“How could you not?” Harry asked in disbelief, but he merely got a shrug from the other three and then was shown the guest bedroom they had made up for him.

Despite being apologised to by Mr and Mrs Granger about it being a bit on the small size, Harry had noted that the room he would be staying in for the next month was easily twice as big as his cousin Dudley’s room back at Privet Drive. There was a king single in one corner, a large wardrobe in another corner, a desk with a reading lamp against the wall and a perch for his owl over by the window. He was very happy with it.

“Let’s leave your trunk here,” Mr Granger said, putting it at the end of the bed, whilst Hermione carried Hedwig over to her new perch, “you can unpack later or tomorrow. Right now, we should get you something to eat. How does cold meat and salad sound, Harry?”

“Real meat?” Harry asked curiously, his stomach churning in agony at the thought of the spam his Aunt Petunia served him all last week.

“Of course,” Mr Granger said, he looked rather bemused. “We do still have some of that cold ham and turkey left in the fridge, right my dear?”

“Yes, there’s loads of it,” Mrs Granger said assuredly from where she stood in the doorway.

“Excellent,” Mr Granger said happily, ushering everyone out of the room, “we can get to know you a little better whilst we eat, Harry.”

Harry had never had a better cold meat and salad meal before in his life. Not only was there plenty of ham and turkey to go around, but also bowls of the best pasta salad, potato salad and egg salad he’d ever tasted. They finished the meal with a scoop of ice cream each and then retired to the living room for a cup of tea.

Harry tried his best to be part of the conversation, he at least attempted to answer any questions and ask any of his own, but he couldn’t stop yawning. Such had been his excitement for leaving Privet Drive, he hadn’t managed to get much sleep last night, and now it was beginning to catch up to him. It was a mark on their kindness when the Granger’s caught on to his fatigue and called an end to the night.

Harry shared a sink with Hermione as he brushed his teeth, which was weird, and then they lingered in the hallway saying good night with a hug. She smiled and left for her own room, leaving Harry to think that, if this was going to be the routine before bed for the rest of the summer, he could definitely get used to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note - Sorry, I don't know when the next chapter will be, this story is stuck at 20k words. I'm afraid I've been having rather a bad string of luck with story ideas going beyond the 20k word count but I will try to persist.


	3. The Granger Lifestyle

#  Chapter Three

* * *

The Granger Lifestyle

* * *

The first weekend at The Granger’s House was spent by Harry acclimatising himself with a completely different style of life than at Privet Drive. His very first night he found his bed to be so unfathomably comfortable, that he was out like a light and slept the whole way through the night, and well into the morning. Other than his four-poster at Hogwarts, he had never experienced such a thing, and it was rather quite refreshing. To be allowed to sleep in was also a blessing, because Aunt Petunia would normally rattle on his door at the crack of dawn until he was awake and even Mrs Weasley would push him to get up early for breakfast.

The Granger’s were perfectly happy to let him get out of bed at his own pace.

By the time he drifted out into the main part of the house at around about half past ten, Hermione and her parents were all sitting at the table in the kitchen eating breakfast and he was greeted, rather casually, with a “good morning” like it was just another normal day.

“How’d you sleep?” Hermione asked with a smile, as he sat down beside her, and Mrs Granger went about fetching him some breakfast.

“Perfectly,” Harry said firmly, “it was nice not sleeping on a lumpy mattress for a change.”

It was also a nice change having some French toast and a cup of tea for breakfast, rather than the slice of grapefruit he had been getting back at the Dursley’s. After breakfast, Hermione dragged him to her bedroom, using the excuse that he never got to complete last night’s tour, but it was more just to show him the vast library of hers, which took up one entire wall, with shelves and shelves of books of all different shapes and sizes.

She even had one of those rolling ladders that Harry had seen in libraries, which helped her reach the top shelf at a moment’s notice.

In the corner by the bookshelves was a cushioned reading chair, with a side table and a reading lamp on it. Harry could imagine the number of hours she’d spent sitting in that. On the opposite side of her room was her Queen-sized bed, properly made, of course, but typically normal. There were no bright primary colours that Harry might have expected from some girls, everything was a pleasantly casual colour from the light shade of lavender bedspread, to the off-white painted walls, it was perfectly Hermione.

The only spot of colour was her cat Crookshanks, the large orange furball was stretched out like a rug at the end of her bed, sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware that anyone was present.

There was a desk that stood facing the window, it was packed with books also, there were piles of parchment and quills and ink bottles but somehow, it still looked neat and tidy. And in the other corner was a large wooden wardrobe, next to a wall-sized mirror and a very small dressing table next to that. Harry was weary about looking around too much, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what he would find if he started opening draws or cupboards.

“It’s… very…” Harry looked around for a word that best described it, and saw Hermione standing on the threshold of her room biting her lip, looking towards him expectantly, waiting for his verdict, “Hermione.”

She smiled nervously. “You think so?” she asked, stepping into her room and looking at the bare wall above her bed. “I’ve always thought I should put up a picture, or poster, or something, just there,” she turned towards the window, “and those curtains are falling apart, mum did offer to buy new ones,” she turned towards her dressing table, “and this was my grandmothers. It’s old, I should probably replace it, but I haven’t the heart…”

She shrugged and looked back at Harry inquisitively.

“I hope you’re not asking for decoration advice from me?” Harry asked in disbelief, and then after a moment of staring at each other, they began to laugh.

When they returned to the living room, Harry and Hermione found Mr and Mrs Granger were back in the kitchen, and they were packing several picnic baskets with blankets, plates, cups, tea and sandwiches. At exactly one o’clock, they were each handed a basket and a fold-out chair and then they made their way out onto the beach for a walk along the shoreline. Hermione did her best to try and explain that tea on the beach was somewhat of a Granger familiar tradition, and that he should get used to it, because it would likely be happening a lot.

Harry thought it was brilliant.

There was something fantastically British about spending an afternoon sitting around a campfire on the beach, drinking tea and eating sandwiches. Harry kept wondering why Hermione had never mentioned any of this part of her life to him, it felt like they were in another time, but there was never a break in the conversation to ask her, and it continued to slip his mind as the day went on.

Now that Harry felt fresh, felt rested, had a full belly, was properly alert and brimming with confidence, he began to get to know the Granger’s just that little bit better. His early impressions of Hermione’s parents were quite positive.

Mrs Granger was a very lovely women indeed, but she wasn’t like a lot of mothers Harry had ever met before. Given that his spectrum to judge that on was Aunt Petunia and Mrs Weasley, it might have been unfair for him to place Mrs Granger somewhere in the middle. She was warm and kind and thoughtful towards him, but there was also something solid about her, something unsentimental and unwavering.

When he had watched her earlier, collecting wood for the campfire and setting up the kettle in her thick jacket, her head scarf and pair of gumboots, it was like watching the Queen preparing them tea in the great outdoors. And when they were all sitting around with their tea and staring into the distance, she – along with Hermione’s help – pointed out to Harry the bit of land on the horizon they could see, which turned out to be Ireland, and that she had once sailed there in a thunderstorm to perform emergency dental work.

Harry didn’t doubt the story for a second.

Mr Granger was equally as lovely as his wife, but without being indelicate, Harry saw more Hermione in him than he did her mother. He had this caring attitude towards everybody in the way he talked, he had spent most of their time on the beach with a book in his hand and was found to be curious about everything that Harry talked about. He also spent a good half-hour with Harry at the water’s edge, attempting to help him perfect the art of skimming stones across the surface of the sea.

The way Hermione described her father was that he always seemed to have more time on his hands than everybody else. He read more books than she could dream of, whilst managing to work near on full-time as a dentist with his wife at their clinic and part-time teaching students at the University down the road. And although he didn’t have any fantastical stories about sailing through thunderstorms or getting to hard-to-reach places to perform emergency dental surgery, he was pretty damn good at telling the odd dad joke.

“Actually,” Mr Granger said with a chuckle, as they began the walk back along the shoreline home once the campfire had burned, “I did hear this pretty good one last week about a rabi and a priest—”

“Christopher,” Mrs Granger said warningly, giving her husband a look, who hesitated.

“But err… perhaps another time,” he said with a shrug.

Harry’s first day at the Granger’s House finished as splendidly as it had started. Mrs Granger cooked a large pot of pasta for dinner and then they all sat out on the veranda watching the sun set below the horizon. It was as close to a perfect summers day that Harry had had in his life, even surpassing the wonderful memories he had of the Burrow, which in comparison to this place, was far too hectic an environment.

The following day, there was a little bit more urgency about the Granger’s when Harry drifted out of his bedroom, again getting on for ten. He was given his breakfast and sent him off to shower and dress. It wasn’t until he bumped into Hermione in the hallway, as she came out of her bedroom, that she explained they were heading to a market in the nearby town, that had been held there every Sunday for over a century.

“It’s a bit of a Granger family tradition to go to the market on a Sunday morning,” she said with a shrug, pushing a strain of her back behind her ear.

“Another one?” Harry asked in amusement. “How many more family traditions are there I don’t know about?”

She gave him one of her looks that suggested he shouldn’t ask.

“Come on,” she said, she took him by the hand and led him through the house, out the back door and down the ramp towards the car, where Mr and Mrs Granger were sitting in waiting with the engine running.

It was a short five-minute drive along the coast to the nearby muggle town. Harry had never been allowed the luxury to attend a market before, the Dursley’s weren’t exactly the type to get up early on a Sunday, not even for church. And even then, they would never have taken him. So, Harry didn’t even understand the concept until they’d climbed out of the car and walked around the block.

He didn’t know why he had it in his head that the market would just be a street of various shops but imagine his surprise when they stepped out into the open of a very large parking lot, lined with stalls and booths and tables and vans and everything else imaginable. It was almost like every single person in town had pulled up in their cars with unwanted goods and laid them out on the table for people to look at and buy. And, honestly, as he began to move along the rows, that’s exactly what it was.

He half-expected to come across a booth being managed by Mundungus Fletcher.

It didn’t matter what you were interested in, chances were, you could find a booth for it. Hermione immediately found a book stall, of course, Mrs Granger went to go look for some curtains for her daughter and Mr Granger made a beeline for the music section at the other end of the lot. Harry didn’t want to wander too far away from Hermione, so he browsed through some of the booths nearby. 

One guy was selling a bunch of animal statues, all made from clay, and he tried to sell Harry an elephant that had its trunk up, because apparently that brings good luck. Harry declined and moved to the next stall, who had trays and trays of buttons, all different colours and sizes, with the idea that if your favourite jacket was missing one, you could replace it here. Another guy was doing the same thing but with LEGOs, which were children’s building bricks that Harry vaguely remembered Dudley once owning, and when left out on the floor, there were incredibly painful to stand on.

Something Uncle Vernon had learned the hard way.

By the time Harry reached the booth with the sunglasses and was trying on ones that fit the best over his wire-rimmed glasses, Hermione caught up to him and appeared over his shoulder as he looked into the mirror provided.

“Hi,” she said brightly, starling him slightly, “those look good on you—”

“I was just browsing,” Harry said with a shrug, trailing away and putting them back down, “I don’t have any muggle money on me.”

“That’s okay, I do,” she said, reaching for the sunglasses immediately, and putting them back on his face, “you need a pair, anyway, for the amount of time we’ll be spending on the beach.”

Harry tried his best to argue with her, and stop her from spending her money on him, but she had already started haggling with the owner of the booth, and eventually forked out the pounds that was settled on.

“Oh, stop it,” she said to him with a snap, she sounded annoyed as she began to push him along once the transaction was made. “I’ll buy you whatever I please, Harry Potter. And if you’re that proud, you can just pay me back in Galleons later.”

Harry grumbled in response as Hermione poked him along the row of stalls, until she came to a stop in front of one with items that, yet again, Harry was sure had once been owned by Dudley. The sign above their heads read “VHS Movies”, which reminded him vaguely of being put in his cupboard under the stairs while the Dursley’s put the pictures on for their son.

Hermione started picking through some of the cases on the table and gasped.

“Look, Harry,” she whispered excitedly, holding up one of them. “Disney films. Oh, these are so great.”

“What’s Disney?” Harry asked, taking one of the ones Hermione was holding, making her stare blankly back at him.

Hermione blinked, looked around at the owner of the booth, who had raised an eyebrow at Harry’s words. She handed the money over for the films without even haggling and then tugged Harry out of their earshot.

“You weren’t even allowed to watch Disney movies?” Hermione asked, she seemed depressed for him as Harry shrugged at the thought. “That’s so…”

She brought him into an unexpected hug, which was always nice, but pulled away swiftly when she remembered where they were.

“Well,” she said promptly, her face slightly flushed, “we will just have to put them on for you on movie night.”

“Movie night?” Harry asked, a small smile appeared on his face again. “Another Granger family tradition, I’m sure?”

Harry could see that Hermione had begun to smile at his words, but she bit her lip and rolled her eyes and grabbed his elbow. “Come on,” she said bossily, “my parents will be looking for us.”


	4. The Rockpools

#  Chapter Four

* * *

The Rockpools

* * *

For the third day in a row, Harry drifted from the confines of his bedroom and out into the main house at around about ten o’clock in the morning. However, he was faced with a different situation than before, the Granger’s weren’t all in the kitchen having breakfast, and all he could find was Hermione, sitting on one of the leather couches in the living room, bathed in sunlight, reading one of the books she had purchased yesterday at the market.

A slight smile came over her face when she spotted him approaching from the bedrooms, and as he was looking around rather confusingly for a sign of her parents, she bookmarked her place and set it down in her lap.

“Good morning,” she said happily, as Harry slumped down into one of the other leather couches opposite her.

“Morning,” Harry replied curtly, he was still looking around, “where are your parents?”

“It’s Monday,” she said simply, as if that should explain it, but when Harry looked back at her, confused, she added, “they had to go to work. They aren’t on holidays like you and me.”

“Oh,” Harry said, he suddenly felt stupid that he had assumed, “that’s a shame, I’ve really been enjoying time with them.”

“I’m so relieved you like them,” Hermione said seriously, biting her lip, “I wasn’t sure if you were you going to like it here as much as you like the Burrow.”

“It’s been brilliant so far,” Harry said, sitting back against the couch and staring out the large front windows, towards the beach, which looked picturesque once again. “What’s on the agenda for today? Is it hot enough outside for a swim, finally?”

“It’s warm,” Hermione said nodding, casting a glance out the large windows also, “you can go for a swim if you like. I was keener on another idea.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Which is?”

Hermione put aside her book, stood up suddenly and approached his couch. She smiled at him again, put out her arm for him to take, and then said, “come with me.”

“Where are we going?” Harry asked as he took her hand without much hesitation, but she did not answer his question.

Once he was back on his feet, she led him through the corridor to the bedrooms and veered left into her room. At first, when Harry stopped on the threshold and she made her way over to the end of the bed, he had some mixed emotions as to what was happening. But then she turned around and faced him and smiled at him yet again, before putting her arms out.

“Well?” Hermione asked carefully, raising her eyebrows at him.

“What?”

“Tell me what you think, please?” Hermione said eagerly.

Harry was looking around Hermione’s room. What was he looking at? What had changed from yesterday? He didn’t even know. He took a careful step into the room, his eyes darting in every direction, attempting to play a real-life game of spot the difference.

“I—” Harry hesitated and after a few moments, “is something even different? Oh! I know… Crookshanks is gone.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “He’s probably outside lying on the sun dunes or something,” she said irritably, “but that’s not what I meant, Harry.”

She sighed and then she pointed rather crudely at her curtains.

“Oh… new curtains,” Harry said, and when Hermione nodded and beamed at them, he added, “okay, they look nice and everything, but what have they got to do with what we’re doing for the day?”

“Well, truthfully, nothing,” Hermione said finally with a shrug, “it’s more my thought process about decorating my room and where we can go look for more decorations.”

“Decorations?” Harry said slowly. “You mean go back to the market?”

‘They don’t open the market on Monday’s,” Hermione said shaking her head. “I thought we could pack a lunch and head to the end of the beach and look through some of the rockpools for shells to put on my windowsill. We could make a day of it. How does that sound?”

Harry blinked. “All right,” he said with a shrug, “can I swim at these rockpools?”

“Of course,” Hermione said enthusiastically, which was enough for Harry to agree and so they parted ways to collect what belongings they needed.

Harry was excited to put his swimming trunks on for the first time that summer. The water had been nothing but inviting since he’d got there, but due to the busy first weekend, he just hadn’t had the chance. He filled the beach bag that the Granger’s had supplied him with whilst he stayed there with all the things he thought he might need, flung it over his shoulder and then raced to the front of the house eagerly where he found Hermione.

She looked less interested in swimming than him, she was wearing a pair of denim shorts and a light shirt, she must have had her bushy hair tied up because it didn’t even poke out from under her sun hat. She also had a pair of sleek sunglasses, which she took off as Harry approached, and frowned at his attire.

“We should really get you a hat, Harry,” Hermione said worryingly, but Harry merely shrugged away the thought, “where are your new sunglasses?”

“Oh!” Harry dug into his beach bag, pulled them out and slipped them on, making a sound effect as he did it, and making the sides of Hermione’s mouth twitch. “Here, let me carry that.”

He took the basket out of her hands, making her mumble thanks, and then they were on their way. The walk there was pleasant and peaceful, they skimmed along the water’s edge, getting their feet wet, testing out the temperature. Harry was so distracted by the sights and the sounds of the beach in front of him, that he didn’t even notice that they automatically joined hands as they walked.

And by the time they reached the rockpools, and he looked down at what he was holding, he quickly let go of her hand and took a step backwards.

“Sorry,” he said automatically, setting the basket and his things down as a reaction.

“For what?” she asked with a casual smile, it was a rhetorical question, but for a moment, she thought Harry might decide to answer it.

“I’m going for a swim,” Harry said quickly, it felt like his entire face was hot all of a sudden.

Hermione’s eyes widened slightly when she realised that he was taking his shirt off, she turned her back on him to place her things down. Harry wanted to say something to abolish the awkwardness, but thought better of it, and made his way into the water. The air was warm, and the sea was rather cold, so the balance wasn’t perfect, but it was enough for him to wade into the water and dive.

It certainly was refreshing.

Perhaps a little too refreshing, because after a few minutes of floating around in the shallows, he decided he’d had enough and got out. Hermione had already made her way over to the rockpools, he thought he saw her watch him getting out of the water, but by the time he looked, she had her head down inspecting a shell.

Harry did his best to dry himself off, he put his shirt back on, and then began to look through the rockpools himself. The colours of the pools were outstanding. There was a great mixture of coral, fish, shells and rocks, all of which blended well together. He started picking out whatever caught his eye, making sure to be careful, as Hermione had instructed him to be, because he wasn’t to know what creatures lived in the holes he was sticking his hand into.

He had, at first, thought she had sounded scarily like Luna Lovegood, warning him of an imaginary danger. But then he started spotting crabs scuttering out of sight, fish diving in and out of corals and rocks moving of their own accord. His ignorance was made apparent when he pulled a particularly beautiful shell from the depths of one pool and then held it up triumphantly at Hermione, who came over to inspect it.

“That’s a hermit crab, Harry,” she said in amusement, shaking her head, “put the poor thing down.”

“What? No, it isn’t,” Harry said, turning it over in his hand for a better look, “there’s nothing in there, Hermione, it’s— ah!”

A pair of eyes had blinked at him from inside the shell, startling him and making him drop it back into the pool at his feet in shock. Hermione was unable to stop herself bending over from laughter at the look of surprise on Harry’s face. He took a moment to recover, stood up straight, put his hands on his hips and made a face.

“Ha, ha,” he said sarcastically at her, “very funny.”

He lined himself up with the rockpool in front of him and Hermione, aimed his foot towards the water and kicked, splashing her legs and making her squeal outwardly.

“Ah! Harry… no!” Hermione jumped backwards in alarm and was unprepared as he kicked water at her again and she attempted to scatter away, whilst her ribs still hurt from laughing.

“Come back!” Harry said playfully, kicking water towards her again, chasing her through the precarious and slippery rockpools.

“Harry, please, wait!” Hermione said, there was a mixture of laughter and concern in her voice. “This is so dangerous!”

And sure enough, just as Harry went to kick another rockpool of water towards her, his feet slid from underneath him on some seaweed, and he fell backwards onto his arse with a thud. Hermione, who saw the whole thing unfold, stopped in her tracks and put a hand to her mouth, looking horrified.

And yet, she started laughing again.

“Oh dear,” she said with a chuckle, she was making a face with her hand over her mouth, “oh, Harry, are you okay?”

“No,” Harry said grumpily, groaning as he rubbed his lower back, “my arse hurts.”

Hermione, who had been approaching cautiously, closed her eyes and bit her lip to stop from laughing, but inevitably a small snort escaped her.

“It’s not funny!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Hermione said seriously, laughing inwardly as she helped him to his feet. “I think maybe that’s enough of the rockpools for one day. I think I’ve collected enough shells. How about some lunch?”

Harry nodded and followed her back to their bags with a limp. They had their sandwiches and a cup of tea, packed everything up and then made their way back. Hermione wasn’t kidding when she said she had enough shells. Her beach bag was literally rattling on her hip the whole way home, and she kept pulling out the prettier ones she’d found to show him and explain what she wanted to do with them to decorate her room.

By the time they got back, it was still too early in the day for her parents to be home, so the two of them lay about on the veranda on some deck chairs for the afternoon, whilst Hermione’s colourful shells soaked in some fresh water. There was something so peaceful about the place, something tranquil, with the ebb and flow of the water, the chirping of sea birds as they flew overhead and the cool salty breeze moving their hair.

Eventually the day grew colder and they moved indoors. Harry went and took a shower to remove the sand from his person and when he came back out, Hermione’s parents were home and she was already showing them the shells she’d found, and the encounter Harry had had with the hermit crab. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Hermione so animated when telling a story, but the sense of humour she shared with her parents, was also something he had not experienced from her before.

He was really beginning to love staying with the Granger’s.


	5. The Second Sandbank

#  Chapter Five

* * *

The Second Sandbank

* * *

Harry woke the following morning completely covered in sweat. For a moment, he thought maybe he’d had a bad dream, and was clamming up from that. But then he pulled the clinging sheets off of him, climbed out of bed and felt the thickness of the heat hit him. He pulled on the lightest shirt and pair of shorts that he owned, and then staggered out of his room, somewhat dozily, and headed for the bathroom.

He splashed a few handfuls of cool water onto his face and then drifted back up the hallway in search of Hermione. He peered into her room and froze in the doorway when he saw, with her back to him, that she was up on her ladder fiddling with one of the shelves of her large bookcases. Like him, she seemed slightly sweaty and due to the warm summer’s day, she was in very little. He was still as he watched her, in a very nice summer dress which came above her knees and shortened slightly as she reached up, his mouth suddenly becoming very dry.

She twisted around.

“Harry?”

She spotted him standing on the threshold, Harry tried his best to remove the smug grin from his face and just look casual as he leaned against the doorframe, but she frowned slightly and descended the latter.

“Good morning,” she said awkwardly, her cheeks were slightly pink as she flattened out her dress, “it’s very hot, isn’t it?”

Harry smiled. “Very hot,” he said in agreement, nodding his head.

Hermione stared at him. Harry got the feeling that she might have caught on to the fact that he had been standing there longer than just a second and had been raking his eyes over her, but she didn’t say anything. She quickly moved on by pushing the ladder back across the rows of bookcases and into the corner.

“I was just doing some rearranging,” she said, attempting to quell the awkwardness through conversation, “adding those books I bought at the market to my collection, means shuffling things around, so it’s still in alphabetical order.”

“Seems silly to be doing that on such a hot day,” Harry said quietly.

“Oh, well, I couldn’t sleep,” Hermione said truthfully, “I’ve been up since six. I’ve had breakfast. I’ve been for my morning swim. I’ve done some chores—”

“You went swimming already?” Harry asked gloomily. “I was hoping not to have to go into the water alone again.”

Hermione wiped the sweat from her brow and smiled strangely. “I think, given the heat, I probably won’t be stopping at just one swim for the day, Harry,” she said slyly, raising her eyebrows at him, “do you want something for breakfast?”

“Nope,” Harry said shaking his head, “let’s go swimming.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Can I finish what I’m doing here first, please?” she asked, gesturing to the few books on her reading chair that she needed to add to the shelves of her bookcase in alphabetical order.

“Absolutely not,” Harry said, and he strode forwards, grabbed her hand and began to drag her from the room.

“Harry!” she said with a laugh, grabbing at the doorframe desperately. “I’m not even in my swimmers—”

“You can just go in the buff,” Harry said with a shrug and a smile, continuing to try and drag her.

Hermione laughed outwardly. “Ha! You wish!” she said, managing to free her hand from his, which wasn’t too difficult, due to their sweaty palms. “Just shove off and let me get changed at least, would you? I won’t be long.”

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Hermione closed the door in his face, and so his jaw snapped shut. He turned on his heel with a smile and went back to his room to change into his swimming trunks and to fetch his towel. Hermione’s bedroom door was still sealed when he went past, so he continued on into the living room and stood by the large windows, staring out at the sea. It was nice and calm and inviting, and Harry was itching to go.

Hermione appeared at his shoulder soon afterwards. She didn’t look like she’d changed at all, she was still wearing the same summer dress as before, but she did have a towel over her shoulder, like he did, which suggested she was ready for the swim. He was giving her an inquisitive look when Hermione nudged him towards the door and they made their way out onto the veranda, and then down onto the beach.

They had to hotfoot across the scalding sand until they reached a patch further down that was cooler to stand on. They ditched their towels, Harry took off his shirt and then he watched, with a rather bated breath, as Hermione pulled her summer skirt up over her head and off to reveal the turquoise one-piece bathing suit she wore underneath. She quickly became fully aware that Harry was staring, she went a little red in the face and then narrowed her eyes at him.

“What?” she asked of him demandingly.

“Nothing,” Harry lied, but he smiled before turning away and led the charge down to the water’s edge. “You might want to hold back for a minute,” he told her, “unless you want to get splashed.”

“Oh no,” Hermione said tentatively, taking a step back, “what’re you going to—?”

But before she could finish asking the question, Harry yelled out and took off at a run, startling her, his legs flailing up and down over the surface until he got deep enough that he lost his momentum and flopped down face-forward, sending water everywhere. Hermione remained standing at the edge of the shore, her eyes slightly widened at what she had just witnessed, as Harry surfaced, wiped his face and then looked towards her.

“Your turn,” Harry said with a grin, spitting some water out of his mouth.

“Absolutely not,” Hermione said firmly, crossing her arms and shaking her head.

Her entry into the sea was a little bit more graceful. She walked until she got to Harry, where the water reached her waist, and then she delicately dropped her knees and submerged up to her neck, gasping at the cool relief of the water.

“You’re not going completely under?” Harry asked impatiently, as Hermione floated in place with her hair still dry. “It’s quite refreshing.”

“I will eventually,” she said defensively, before standing up, “but I usually do that on my way out to the second sandbank.”

Harry, who had been about to dive under the water again, stopped at her words and looked around at her, confused.

“The what?” he asked curiously.

“The second sandbank,” Hermione said, pointing over his head, “it’s out there somewhere. Come on, I’ll explain on the way.”

Harry was completely intrigued as he followed Hermione into deeper waters. They quickly reached an incline in the sea level however, which he thought was very strange, and it became shallow enough again that Harry’s knobbly knees appeared above the surface. But Hermione quickly explained that this was just the first sandbank, and that they needed to swim if they wanted to reach the second.

Hermione finally dipped her head underwater and washed the sweat from her face as they began to leisurely breaststroke further out to sea. Harry became rather uneasy the further they went, the ocean floor beneath them quickly became lost in blackness, and he turned his head back towards the beach, which was slowly getting farther and farther away. Hermione was eternally steadfast for the entire swim out, and whilst reaching the second sandbank was, ironically, second nature to her, it was nothing but a rush of relief to Harry.

Putting his foot down on solid ground this far out was rather quite unnerving. It also felt quite spectacular, to be able to stand with the water only up to their navels, and be able to look backwards towards the shore, and see just how far out they were.

“How did you even discover this?” Harry asked in awe, as Hermione watched his reaction with glee.

“My dad showed me,” Hermione said truthfully, “he and mum taught me everything there is to know about the ocean, and this beach especially. I learned to swim out here at a very early age. Just like I learned about collecting shells from those rock pools, about fishing from the reef just a little bit further out, about surfing the waves when the weather gets rough, and about how to navigate on our yacht—”

“I’m sorry?” Harry said in disbelief. “Your parents have a yacht?”

“Just a small one,” Hermione said quietly with a shrug.

“Why haven’t I seen this yacht?” Harry asked, looking around the cove expectantly.

“Dad keeps it in a marina a few miles up the coast,” Hermione explained apprehensively, biting her lip, “and I know what you’re thinking—”

“I don’t think you do,” Harry said with a bit of a laugh. “How come you never told Ron and me about this life? I thought I knew all there was to know about you—?”

“First of all, why would I tell Ron?” Hermione asked, shaking her head. “You always told me you thought the Burrow was the perfect home, so, I guess I felt a little self-conscious about telling you about mine. That’s why I had been hesitant until now in bringing you here.”

“Yeah, about that,” Harry said, suddenly remembering the persistent letters she had sent him over the summer, “why were you so keen on having me here?”

“I thought that much was obvious?” Hermione said quietly, and despite Harry shaking his head, Hermione didn’t elaborate, she left him hanging and instead, said, “let’s go back in.”

Harry opened his mouth to say something, to ask her what was so obvious, but closed it just as quickly. What was obvious? What? Was he missing something again? Another sign that any other human being on the planet would be able to pick up on? Or was she playing games with him? He had seen the way she kept smiling at his tomfoolery, she had shown a side of her sense of humour that hadn’t been there before.

But what did it mean?

Harry muttered under his breath the whole swim back to the shore. He thought he saw Hermione looked around at him with a sheepish smile, but she turned away too quick for him to be sure. Why did he have to be so stupid? Hermione had always spoken highly of attributes, like his friendship and bravery, but they were pretty useless traits in this scenario, in attempting to figure out the cryptic messaging of his best friend, which was apparently very obvious.

Hermione left the water very quickly. He could tell that she was still a little self-conscious about him seeing her in her bathing suit, but that was too obvious to be the obvious thing, right? Hermione had covered herself in her towel and was drying off by the time Harry came out of the water too for his own towel. He wiped himself down with it once, then lay it carefully on the sand, and slumped down onto it.

Hermione mumbled something about getting them some lunch, but Harry didn’t really notice, he was still caught up in his thoughts by the time she returned. She had pulled her summer skirt on over her bathing suit and was carrying a picnic basket and a fold out chair, which she set down beside Harry’s towel.

“So, did you figure it out yet?” Hermione asked him brightly, sitting down in the chair and reaching for the basket.

“What?” he looked up in confusion as she produced some plastic containers of food.

“The obvious reason as to why I wanted you here?” Hermione said defiantly, frowning at the baffled look on his face. “Why I practically begged you to come and stay here?”

“No, I have not figured it out,” Harry said irritably, “could you please just tell me? Because I feel so stupid—”

Hermione smiled sweetly and held out the plastic container. “Cucumber sandwich?”


	6. The Cool Change

#  Chapter Six

* * *

The Cool Change

* * *

The hot weather continued into the next day. There had been some relief the previous evening, when Mr Granger had put the air conditioning on for a few hours, but the thickness of the heat was so much that it was almost pointless. Instead, the alternative since then had been to go for a swim or take a cold shower. When Harry woke the next morning, he immediately took the latter option to cool off and once again, dressed lightly.

On his way out into the living room, he did notice Hermione’s bedroom door was unusually closed, but he thought nothing of it until he took a quick look around the house and just assumed that she was still sleeping. He didn’t have the heart to go and wake her up and disturb her, so rather than sneaking about the house, and going into places he shouldn’t, he plopped himself down on one of the leather couches of the living room and stared out the large windows.

He had wondered why the house felt a bit dark, but now that he was staring out at the horizon, he could see why. Large, black, ominous clouds loomed in the distance, whilst the blistering hot sun attempted to shine through the cracks. There was a slight wind flapping against the windows, bringing the darkness towards them, and Harry could only hope that it would bring a cool change to ease the exhaustion of the heat.

“Good morning,” came a soft voice, he turned and saw Hermione shuffling towards him, yawning and stretching and still wearing her striped pyjamas. “I’m sorry, I can’t believe I slept in, I never sleep in—”

“Good morning,” Harry said calmly before shrugging, “it’s okay, I’ve just been sitting here, admiring the view and contemplating what’s coming.”

Hermione came to a stop just before the couch and spotted the looming black clouds on the skyline that Harry was talking about.

“Oh wow,” Hermione said, her eyes widened with intrigue at what she was seeing, “that has to be the cool change.”

“Looks like it,” Harry said casually, he was smirking rather amusingly at her attire.

“I hope there’s lightening. I love lightening,” she said, looking around and finally seeing the grin on his face. “What are you smiling about?”

“Nice pyjamas,” he said complimentarily, nodding at the blue stripes.

“Shut up,” she said, her face went red, she quickly turned on her heel and hurried back to her bedroom to change.

Harry remained glued to the leather couch in the living room, leaning back in comfort as he watched the massive storm roll its way towards them. Hermione returned wearing jeans and a shirt and made them both a cup of tea and joined him on the couch to watch the show. It was just one of those situations where you didn’t want to look away, in case something fantastical happened, something unforgettable.

It was a little bit of a slow-build as far as storms go. It became a somewhat theatrical experience for them both, waiting for the sleeping giant to wake up, and kick into gear over the house. They’d finished their cups of tea before the very dark clouds had even enveloped the Granger’s House. But when it did, it blanketed them in such a darkness, that it was almost frightening. Hermione curled up into a little ball besides him, put a large cushion in his lap and then rested her head there to watch it with him.

Harry thought it was rather forward of her, but he didn’t let it bother him.

They heard the crackling of the thunder well before they saw any rain, let alone the accompanying lightening. It got steadily louder and louder, as the house grew darker and darker, and just when Harry thought his ears were strained enough, the wind started. It was only light wind to begin with, it rattled leisurely against the windows, as the crackling of thunder continued.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Hermione said suddenly, clambering to her feet, “this is meant to be the moment—”

“What?” Harry asked nervously, sitting upright rather quickly. “What moment?”

“To open the doors,” Hermione explained, wrenching open the sliding door at the front, and then legging it to the back door, to open that also. “It acts as a cross breeze through the house and cools the place down.”

“Oh,” Harry said, he was hoping for something more climactic than that as Hermione gave a wry smile and returned to her place on the couch.

The moment she put her head down on the cushion, they witnessed the first flash of lightening, which was almost instantaneously followed by the crack of thunder, making an unprepared Hermione jump in freight. Harry couldn’t help but laugh at her reaction and got a jab in his ribs for it before she returned her head to the cushion.

The lightening was happening all the time now. It reminded Harry of Colin Creevey and his photography, blinding anyone who looked directly into the light for too long. The thunder had grown exponentially louder now, to the point where the house was shaking because of it, and indeed the leather couch they were both on. Every time it did that, Hermione gasped outwardly, and gripped the cushion beneath her head tighter.

And then she would breathe in deeply in awe.

“Do you smell that?” Hermione asked him after a while, turning her to look up at him.

“Did you fart?”

“No, it’s the— no!” she said angrily at him, as he chuckled to himself. “Don’t be childish, Harry, it’s the rain. I can smell it coming, can’t you?”

Harry breathed in. His first nostril full of air was the wonderful scent of her hair, but the second one, was a more central smell, quite natural and fresh in origin. He could definitely tell what she meant, however, how was he supposed to pass up the opportunity to poke more fun at that question?

“Are you sure you didn’t fart?” Harry asked boldly, making her instantly cross. “It’s smells kind of suss to me.”

“You’re terrible,” she said factually, deciding to ignore him and focus on the storm instead.

Hermione was right about a lot of things. Harry was terribly childish for making such jokes, but she was also correct about the rain, which had begun to start up finally, now that the combination of the dark clouds, thunder and lightning was at its most extreme. At first, it seemed a rather tame shower to accompany such blackness. But then the wind picked up more through the house, making both of them shiver in anticipation, and suddenly their ears were blasted by the sound on the water, thumping against the roof and windows of the house.

“Doors!” Hermione said urgently, flinging herself forwards to close the front sliding door off to the right, just as a swirl of wind had drenched the carpet at her feet. “That’ll dry,” she said with a shrug, before racing to the back door to close that too.

She returned to the couch with her hands on her hips, looking down at Harry, whose sole focus had been watching the storm, which was now on full show just past Hermione’s hip. However, her leering over him didn’t go unnoticed.

“Thanks for the help!” Hermione said sarcastically and loudly over the pouring rain, raising her eyebrows at him.

“You’re welcome!” Harry said loudly in return, before pulling her down onto the leather couch with him and out of the way, only to get a jab in his arm for his troubles.

They both slouched in their seats and continued to listen to the sounds of the storm. It wouldn’t be over for a little while, but as far as watching for changing events, that was over now. There were no more surprises to come, Hermione tilted her head down onto Harry’s shoulder and they sat there in silence. It was quite cool now, soon, it would be worth putting on a jumper, but for now, the rain splashing against the windows was quite mesmerising.

By the time it was beginning to die down, Harry realised he was quite hungry, and from her position beside him, with her head resting on his shoulder, Hermione happened to notice too. The noise of the storm had died down enough to the point that she could actually hear his stomach rumble, so she scrambled to her feet, offered her hands, which he took immediately, and pulled him to his feet.

“Let’s get something to eat,” she said bossily, “then, when there’s a break in the rain, we could take a walk down the beach. I’m always fascinated by what ends up on the dunes after a storm.’”

“Okay,” Harry said in agreement, and he followed her into the kitchen to raid the fridge.

Hermione managed to find some left over chicken, which they made sandwiches out of and had a cup of tea. When they were done, it had stopped raining, so they each went to fetch themselves a jumper, and then they had a race down to the water’s edge, which Harry easily won, despite it being Hermione’s idea, and giving herself quite a big head start.

“You cheated!” Hermione hissed at him, holding her sides as she finally reached him, he was bent over breathlessly, with a bit of a stitch.

“I cheated?” Harry said in disbelief, shaking his head, and pointing back up the beach. “You were halfway down here before you even instigated the race.”

“Lies!” Hermione said, but Harry couldn’t see the grin on her face she was concealing, so he waved her away and began to walk in a random direction.

She, of course, followed him.

The mess on the beach from the storm might very well have been just as interesting as the event itself. There was debris of all sorts scattered amongst the sand, they were barefoot, so they had to watch their step, because there was glass and metal objects and sharp wood sticking out of the ground. Unfortunately, it was mostly just rubbish, there were no hidden gems to find, so soon they doubled back up the beach and inspected the sand dunes.

Harry found a tennis ball, but that was about it, and anyway, it was split down the middle, so he threw it as far as he could back down the beach, and then they returned to the Granger’s House. Hermione’s parents were home now. Mr Granger was out the front and waved at them as they approached. He was inspecting the permitter for any sort of damage but luckily, everything seemed okay, which surprised him, considering the severity of the storm.

For dinner, Mrs Granger cooked, with Hermione’s help, a pot roast fit for a king. It both smelled and tasted wonderful, and the experience was only ruined by the fact that they were eating out on the veranda when it started raining again and had to rush inside whilst attempting to cover everything. And by the time Harry was getting into bed, the rain was still pelting against the windows, and the cool change, it appeared to be here to stay.


	7. The Tennis Match

#  Chapter Seven

* * *

The Tennis Match

* * *

Across the road from the Granger’s House there was a public tennis court on a hill. Due to the isolated nature of their home, the Granger’s had always considered it to be an extension of their land and claimed to anyone who asked that they had their very own tennis court. Hermione had told Harry that she couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone else use it, and so whenever they would go to have a casual Saturday morning hit, it would always be available to them.

Harry was told to dress in light coloured clothing for the day, preferably white, a tennis racket was put in his hand and then, with a picnic basket filled with tea and sandwiches, Harry and the Granger’s went to go play some tennis.

“Do you know how to play tennis, Harry?” Mr Granger asked him as they made their way up the steps of the hill.

“Umm,” Harry had been rendered momentarily speechless by Hermione’s outfit; she was wearing a white woolly jumper on top of a white sports shirt, she had on white runners and a white visor with her bushy hair tied in a bun. But it was the short white skirt that was distracting him the most. “I, err… well…”

“That’s a no,” Hermione said firmly, translating Harry’s mumblings to her father.

Hermione was only half-right. He was sure that, among the many things that his cousin Dudley got to do during their childhood that he did not, playing tennis had been one of them. He recognised the tennis racket he was now holding in his hands, as a similar looking one to what Dudley had used to pelt balls at him on the roof one time, which he spent dodging for an entire afternoon as he was ordered to clean out the gutters by Uncle Vernon.

“Well, you’ll pick it up in no time,” Mr Granger said confidently. “You’ll be on Hermione’ side of the net, so, she can help you with any questions you might have as we go.”

Harry nodded and chanced a glance at Hermione, who beamed at him.

When they finally arrived at the court, they put all their gear and the picnic basket on the sidelines, and they began to do a bit of hitting practice as a warmup. Harry was supposed to be learning the intricacies of the game, but he wasn’t retaining a lot of information just at the minute. How was he supposed to even concentrate with Hermione running around dressed as adorably as she was?

And he was so embarrassed by his train of thought, that when they asked him specifically if he was up to speed with the details and ready to start, he just decided to lie and said yes.

It was just a casual game anyway. They played the best of three sets and the best of three games per set. Harry, being the natural athlete that he was, quickly learned that he only needed to place the ball to be effective, not beat the living daylights out of it like his cousin had at him. He figured out the mechanics of a couple of things; he had a decent kick on his serve, and a pretty solid one-handed backhand.

The rest of his game was non-existent.

To his great surprise, Hermione was actually really good at the sport. Sure, she wasn’t about to take Wimbledon by storm, but she made impressive ground strokes, and there was something quite mesmerising about her swinging her racket in full flight. And surprisingly, they actually started winning, not that anyone was really taking too much notice of that, of course, Harry was just enjoying himself immensely.

He and Hermione were high fiving, hugging and doing little victory dances every time they won a point. And then, when they won the set, Hermione hugged him and _kissed_ him on the cheek, making him blush slightly. Luckily for him, no one noticed.

“I thought you didn’t like sport,” Harry said to her once he’d recovered, and they all stopped for a spot of lunch.

“I don’t,” Hermione said simply, raising her eyebrows at him as she sipped her tea.

After their sandwiches they swapped hitting partners and Harry found himself paired with Mr Granger. He had significantly less fun winning with him. However, he did immensely enjoy the banter he had with Hermione from the other side of the net. He loved the way she would scrunch her nose and stick her tongue out every time she would miss a shot and he would poke fun at her for it. And during play, he found himself watching her when he shouldn’t, when he should actually be watching the ball, and a couple of times it went past him as a consequence.

“Eyes on the ball now, Harry,” Mr Granger said calmly and patiently.

Harry would also watch when Hermione would go and retrieve the ball, and his eyes would linger patiently as she bent over to pick the ball up, the hem of her white dress would slip upwards ever so slightly, and he would catch a glimpse of her white—

“Harry!”

Harry was brought out of his reverie by the sound of his name. Mr Granger was pointing to the back of the court, where several tennis balls sat against the fence.

“What?” Harry said stupidly, his face flushed red, as Hermione hit the ball that she had just retrieved up their end of the court too.

“It’s your turn to serve,” Mr Granger said with a bemused look on his face, he didn’t seem to realise that his daughter had been the source of Harry’s distraction.

“Oh, okay,” Harry said distantly, turning on the spot and going about fetching the balls.

“You’re serving for the match now,” Mr Granger informed him carefully, giving him a bit of a wink, “no pressure or anything.”

“Right,” Harry said as he nervously stepped up to the line.

He looked down the other end of the court to see he was serving to Mrs Granger first. He didn’t like hitting it too hard, so he did a half-speed serve that dipped a little, she managed to get some racket on it, but it collected the net.

“Fifteen, love,” Mr Granger called out happily, as Hermione gathered the ball that was dribbling towards her feet and hit it back to Harry.

Harry smirked and hit his next serve a little firmer at Hermione, but she was ready for it and returned it with interest, something that Mr Granger wasn’t ready for, and it whizzed past him before he could react.

“Good shot, sweetheart!” Mrs Granger said happily, as she high fived her daughter and Harry went to fetch the ball. “That’s fifteen all.”

“So it is,” Mr Granger said, looking bemused again.

Harry served to Mrs Granger again. This time, she couldn’t get a racket to it, and was aced.

“Sorry Dianne,” Harry tried to say apologetically, biting his lip, but Mrs Granger waved away the thought as she went to fetch the ball from the corner.

“Thirty-fifteen,” Mr Granger called out, as everyone got into their places.

Hermione returned Harry’s serve again, but this time Mr Granger was the one who was ready, and he volleyed it straight down the middle and out of reach of both ladies.

“Forty, fifteen.”

A minute later, Harry double-faulted, and it was forty-thirty.

“Come on, Harry,” Mr Granger said urgently, “don’t hold back.”

Harry nodded but he looked across the net at Hermione, who stood there in her stance, completely prepared for the fast ball. He decided, right at the last moment, to hit the slowest serve he’d done all match, and despite the fact that Hermione got her racket to it again, for whatever reason it threw her off, she hit it too hard and the ball flew well over the baseline and was called out.

“That’s game,” Mr Granger said triumphantly, striding over to shake Harry’s hand.

Harry felt a little bit bad, but no one else seemed bothered. There were hugs all around, Harry got a particularly long one from Hermione, and then they were packing up and making their way back down the side of the hill, across the road and eventually home.


	8. The Kayak Turnover

#  Chapter Eight

* * *

The Kayak Turnover

* * *

For the first time since Harry arrived at the Granger’s House, he woke up to a picture perfect day outside the large glass windows of the living room. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, the sun was a magnificent yellow and the water was like glass. The view was significantly improved by the sight of Hermione Granger out on the veranda, who was already taking advantage of the beautiful day eating her breakfast and reading a book in a light shirt and pair of shorts.

Harry smiled as he went to get his own bowl of cereal and then went out and joined her.

“Hi,” she said rather brightly, “lovely morning.”

Harry felt bad about interrupting her peace and quiet, because she marked her spot, put the book down and reached for her breakfast.

“It is,” Harry frowned as he took a seat, “but I just wanted to sit in your company. I didn’t want you to stop reading your book on my account.”

Hermione shook her head. She had just put a spoonful of cereal in her mouth.

“It’s fine,” she said with a heavy swallow, “I’d much rather sit and talk with you than read, Harry.”

Harry felt himself go red in the face again and he instinctively looked down at his breakfast and began eating. They did sit in silence to start with. They kept throwing each other looks as they ate and stared out at the calm water. Eventually, though, Harry almost felt obligated to say something, to start a conversation about something, anything.

He just hated long awkward silences.

“So,” Harry said with a long pause, Hermione looked at him promisingly, “what’re we doing today?”

“Oh,” Hermione said, blinking, “I don’t really have anything planned, Harry, sorry.”

Harry nodded understandably and continued eating his breakfast.

“However,” Hermione said quickly afterwards, “dad did ask me to do some sweeping around the side of the house today. So, if we plan on going for a swim or a walk or something later, I need to do that first.”

Harry took another spoonful of his cereal and then looked around for some reason, almost as if he thought there was someone around that could overhear them.

“Couldn’t we just use magic to do that?” Harry asked seriously.

“Harry, we’re underage!” Hermione said reproachfully. “You of all people should know that underage magic should never—”

“Be used outside of school,” Harry finished her sentence with a sigh, “yes, Hermione, I know, I just—”

“Then you shouldn’t have suggested it,” she told him firmly, “besides, mum and dad have always said to me magic isn’t the answer to everything. Sometimes it’s important to do things the muggle way.”

“The Dursley’s tell me that too,” Harry said quietly.

“Oh Harry,” Hermione said shaking her head, “it’s not the same.”

“I know,” Harry said truthfully. “Do you want some help sweeping?”

“I’d appreciate the company,” Hermione said, as she collected up their empty plates, “but, you don’t have to.”

Harry decided that he would. He followed her into the kitchen to stack the dishwasher and then they went out the back of the house together and she led him to a small shed. Once they were fully supplied with gardening equipment, they went to the aforementioned side of the house and began to sweep up the masses of sand, leaves and debris that had been left in the wake of the thunderstorm.

Harry had never been around this side of the house before. Hermione had told him, briefly, that there was an outside shower that they sometimes used to remove the salty water and excess sand before going into the house. Aside from the outside shower, there was also an outside bathtub made from plastic that she admitted never got used. But there was also a bunch of sailing equipment likes ropes, anchors, and life jackets.

However, lying against the wall of the house in the corner were three multi-coloured kayaks with paddles. They looked like good, high-end quality ones too, and they caught Harry’s attention, making him abandon the sweeping almost instantly.

“These look fun,” Harry said, making Hermione look up from her job too as he walked over to them.

“Mum got those,” Hermione said, though she put her head down to continue sweeping, “kayaking is something she did in her youth. She was actually pretty good. Nowadays, she only really goes out on the water when it’s calm and still and warm—”

“As in a day like today?” Harry asked with a laugh.

“Yes, exactly,” Hermione said smiling, “but, of course, she’s at work—”

“Maybe we should go out kayaking today for her,” Harry said quickly, hopefully, his eyes lighting up at the thought, “take advantage of the perfectly still day.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Harry,” Hermione said worryingly, “I’m not very good at it. The last time I went with mum I fell off—”

“That settles it,” Harry said with a serious tone, “we have to take them out now, just so I can see you fall off again!”

Hermione’s eyes turned to slits and she playfully threw a piece of debris at him, which he dodged easily.

“You’re so horrible,” she said, and even though he knew she didn’t mean it, even though he caught a glimpse of a smirk as she turned her back on him and continued sweeping, the two of them came to a sort of non-verbal agreement that they were going to go out kayaking as soon as they were done cleaning up the side of the house.

Once they were finished and put away the rakes and brooms, they parted ways to their bedrooms to put on their swimwear and then fetched a kayak each from around the side. Harry was surprised at how light they were considering the size. He was able to lift his green one easily over his head and carry it with one hand. Hermione had a little more trouble with her blue one. She had to use both hands to carry it, and barely managed not to drag it through the sand.

Harry carried her paddle as well as his and eventually they managed to reach the water’s edge and could let the smooth surface of the sea do the carrying for them. Harry leisurely threw Hermione her paddle, which she fumbled, and then she stuck her tongue out at him when he sniggered at her for dropping it.

“If you’re just going to stand there and laugh whilst you watch me try to get on and paddle,” Hermione said warningly, pointing her finger at him, “we’re no longer friends. And you can paddle off on your own.”

“I promise I won’t,” Harry said, putting his hand on his heart, though he did smile, “do you want help getting on?”

“I’ll manage, thanks,” Hermione said, and eventually they were both able to clamber onto their kayaks and push off from the shore.

The sea was so calm, so still and so perfectly flat, that their kayaks were able to cut through the water like it was butter. Harry had had a general idea on how the paddling worked, but Hermione told him about the technique that worked best and that her mother had tried to teach her, and even though Hermione still struggled with it, Harry picked it up in almost no time.

And in a blink of the eye, he had mastered it and shot off through the water.

“Harry! Not so fast!” Hermione said frustratingly, attempting to keep up as they glided over the second sandbank.

“Keep up, Hermione,” Harry called back to her over his shoulder, his arms moving swiftly over the paddle, pushing himself through the water.

But Hermione was no liar. She was struggling with a combination of things. Her balance was wobbly, her paddle motion was inconsistent, and she wasn’t using her leg muscles to push into the feet straps of her kayak to help her gain momentum. That was a trick Harry learned reasonably quickly and he excelled at it.

Harry got about twenty metres in front of her before he slowed down, dug the paddle into the glassy water and span himself around to stop and face her and watch as she slowly caught up.

“Harry…” she said rather breathlessly, as the tip of their kayaks touched, “if you’re going to race away on me like that then I’m just going to go back—”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said seriously, though he smiled to himself and added, “sorry that you’re so slow.”

Hermione glared at him and she dug her paddle into the water, splashing him. Harry retaliated. Only, like everything else so far on the paddleboards, he was better at it than her, and soon she was trying to shield herself.

“‘Okay stop! Harry! Ugh!”

The water stopped splashing over her, Harry was chuckling to himself and their kayaks stopped rocking.

“Could we please just paddle together, peacefully, and slowly?” she asked of him, wiping her damp bushy hair from her face and pushing his kayak with her paddle so it faced the same way as hers.

“Fine,” Harry said, he raised his paddle, and for a moment Hermione thought he was threatening to splash her again, but when she raised her eyebrow at him, he merely placed his paddle into the water and began to move.

The sides of their kayaks bumped apart and made enough space for them to paddle side-by-side. They fell into silence. And other than the sound of their kayaks gliding over the smooth water or the occasional paddle breaking through the perfect surface, there was no noise at all, not nothing.

“It’s so peaceful out here,” Hermione whispered, as they stopped paddling and just let themselves drift along quietly.

“It is,” Harry said in agreement.

There was another moment of silence. The two of them just sat there, staring off into the distance and caught in their own thoughts. And then, seemingly from nowhere, Harry splashed Hermione again.

“Harry!” she said indignantly, turning to look at him and spotting the grin on his face.

Hermione smirked and splashed him back. They went back and forth again. Harry was pretty relentless, he started overwhelming her with water, even when she yelled at him that she yielded but he didn’t stop. She screamed and tried to paddle away, but Harry was faster than her at that too, and she couldn’t get away. But then she noticed how much his kayak was rocking on the water from all the splashing and she came up with a plan on the spot.

All it took was one well aimed jab with her paddle into his side for Harry to lose his balance and topple over into the water with a splash.

“No fair!” Harry cried out when he resurfaced, and Hermione was bent over on her kayak laughing. “You cheated!”

“You… deserved… it…” Hermione said, she was trying to reign in her laughter, but found it more difficult than she thought.

Harry disappeared back under the water, but she didn’t notice, he swam underneath his upturned kayak, and then went beneath hers and pushed up. The water beside him exploded with Hermione’s entrance, and she scrambled in panic and made for the surface, just as Harry did. She gasped for air and looked around gloomily at Harry, who was like a crocodile in the water, his eyes only just above the surface and his eyebrows raised.

Hermione smirked sideways at him and then splashed him again.

“Are we even now?” Hermione asked, swimming back to her kayak.

“I guess,” Harry said with a grin, fetching his own kayak.

Due to the depth of the water, neither of them could get their legs over their kayaks to get back on. They swam back to the second sandbank with them in tow and got back on there. They took the slow ride back into shore, getting their breaths back and the salt water out of their eyes. It had been a bit of fun, but it was getting late, and it was the perfect way to end their afternoon by lying exhausted on the water’s edge and stare up and the warm sun.


End file.
